#those are all things i feel in my stomach and my head and my chest and my hands

[lazysoulwriter]

valentine's day special - pedro pascal. ♡

The apartment smelled like vanilla and cedarwood, a scent that had somehow become uniquely his. The soft glow of the candles he had scattered around the room flickered against the walls, casting warm golden shadows. Pedro sat on the couch, one leg tucked under him, watching you with that lazy, affectionate gaze that always made your stomach flip.

"So, what is this?" he asked, holding up the neatly wrapped package you had just placed in his hands. His fingers traced over the ribbon, his lips quirking into a smile.

"It’s just… something small," you murmured, suddenly feeling shy under his unwavering attention. "Open it."

Pedro's brows lifted slightly, but he said nothing as he carefully untied the bow, letting the ribbon fall away before peeling back the paper. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. When he finally lifted the cover of the scrapbook, his breath hitched.

The first page was a Polaroid of the two of you—his arm slung around your shoulders, your face tucked against his neck. The caption underneath, written in your careful handwriting, read: The first of many.

Pedro let out a soft chuckle, the kind that rumbled deep in his chest, and turned the pages. Each one was filled with memories—pictures, ticket stubs, scribbled notes from late-night conversations, and little inside jokes only the two of you understood. He traced a fingertip over a pressed flower from the first bouquet he ever gave you, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn't believe you had kept it.

"You did all this?" His voice was quieter now, thick with emotion.

You nodded, biting your lip as you watched him take it all in. "I just wanted you to have something… something tangible. To remind you how loved you are."

Pedro's jaw tensed for a moment, and then he looked up at you with those deep, soulful eyes. Without a word, he placed the scrapbook aside and reached for you, pulling you into his lap in one smooth motion. His hands found your face, warm and steady, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"You are…" He exhaled, shaking his head as if words weren’t enough. "You are everything."

Then he kissed you.

Slow, deep, consuming. The kind of kiss that made your skin tingle and the room fade away. His lips moved against yours like a promise, like a confession, like a thank-you. He tilted his head, deepening it, his fingers threading into your hair as his other hand settled on the small of your back, pressing you closer.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, holding on to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. And maybe he was. Pedro sighed into your mouth before pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

"This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. "But you know what my favorite part is?"

"What?" you asked, still a little dazed from the kiss.

"That I don’t need a scrapbook to remember how much you love me." He smiled, pressing another slow, lingering kiss to your lips. "But I’m keeping it forever."

And just like that, he kissed you again, his lips curling into a smile against yours as he whispered between each one, Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.

[messymoonmad]

Hi, this is the first time I've sent an ask here on Tumblr so I'm a little (Very) nervous but anyway I just love your art, I love with all my strength your antinous and telemachus design. I recently saw on your blog about the Amphinomus x Telemachus ship and I thought well, it's been a while since I wrote it last time so I decided to make a mine oneshot.

(I'm Brazilian so maybe some things I write don't make sense, but I hope you can understand)

The great hall of Ithaca’s palace buzzed with noise. Goblets of wine clinked, laughter echoed too loudly, and the scent of roasted meat mixed with the fresh flowers Penelope insisted on replacing every day.

To Telemachus, it was hell.

He leaned against one of the marble columns, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room with barely concealed distaste. And yet, despite himself, his gaze kept drifting back to Antinous—the worst of his mother’s suitors.

And still, Telemachus couldn’t help it. The confidence, the way Antinous spoke, the sharp smirk on his lips… it was hypnotizing. Disgusting. And it made Telemachus feel sick.

—You really enjoy suffering, huh?

The voice was quiet, amused.Amphinomus had appeared beside him, leaning casually against the same column.

Telemachus flinched, tearing his eyes away from Antinous as if he’d been caught committing a crime.

—What do you mean?

—You look at him like you're under a spell, but also like you want to rip his head off. I can’t tell if I should feel sorry for you or laugh.

Amphinomus grinned, and Telemachus felt a strange warmth in his chest.

He was different from the others. Though he had grown up alongside Antinous and Eurymachus, he never seemed as cruel.

—I hate him. — Telemachus muttered.

—Then why do you keep looking at him like that?

Telemachus had no answer.

Later that night, Amphinomus sat beside Antinous and Eurymachus, half-listening to their drunken chatter—until something made his blood freeze.

—That brat is a nuisance,— Antinous sneered. Once he returns from his little voyage, we kill him. And the queen...

Eurymachus chuckled, raising his goblet.

—She won’t have a choice. She’ll be ours, whether she wants it or not.

Amphinomus felt his stomach turn.

He looked at his childhood friends and, for the first time, truly saw the darkness in them.

This wasn’t right.

Without thinking, he shot to his feet and strode out of the hall. No one seemed to notice his sudden departure, but he couldn’t care less. His steps carried him straight to Telemachus’s chambers, where he knocked frantically.

The door opened, revealing a drowsy and confused Telemachus.

—Amphinomus? What’s wrong?

Amphinomus swallowed hard.

—They’re going to kill you.

Telemachus’s confusion vanished, replaced by shock.

—What?

—They’re planning your murder. And… and something worse for your mother.

The color drained from Telemachus’s face.

—You… you’re joking, right?

— Do I look like I’m joking? — Amphinomus’s voice cracked.You have to leave, or prepare to fight. But you can’t let them catch you off guard.

Silence.

Then, to Amphinomus’s surprise, Telemachus stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder.

—Thank you.

Before Amphinomus could react, he felt something soft against his cheek.

A kiss.

His face immediately turned scarlet.

—Telemachus?

The prince only smiled—one of those rare, genuine smiles.

—You're the only one of them with honor.

Amphinomus opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart pounded like a war drum, and he stood there, frozen, feeling the warmth of the kiss linger on his skin.

He was happy as hell.

OOOOH STOP WHY IS THIS SO GOOOD !!! the comic artist in me is SCREAMING for me to turn this into a comic but my schedule would not allow it. DAMN IT !! I LOVE THIS SM AAAAAH 5 stars 10/10 YES!!! the way you wrote telemachus ??? The way you wrote amphin omg it was SPOT ON.

[iamsebastiansstan]

diary of a fuckdrunk little love 🖤

drabble - One day, in a hundred year’s time, they’ll find me in the earth and spot his fingerprints on my bones, his teeth marks along my jaw, the sliver of his soul wrapped around every single cartilage that makes up my spine, around the very structure that has held me upright my whole entire life, they’ll ask if that is what it was or another force entirely, and they wouldn’t be wrong to question it.

this is very unlike my usual work which is why I won't format it as such, I won't use my usual taglist or anything like that because this was 10000% self indulgent and 1000000% driven by delusion. warnings for heavy BDSM dynamic and empty poeticism. very rushed and even more nonsensical, it is almost 3 am, after all. dedicated to those who listen to me empty my head about this obsession on a daily basis, @hoffmansgirl & @urlitttlevenicebitch 🖤

My body isn’t mine, not really, not when a man like him exists in this world, not when the sight of his hooded eyes makes my heart flutter, just a look at his sinful lips makes my stomach clench, the mere thought of that body makes me want to claw at my throat until it’s raw and open, the way it is when I’m on my knees in front of him. Worship doesn’t even begin to describe it, not when every beat of my heart is dedicated to him, not when every cell in my body calls out to him. With shaking hands I build a shrine from the broken pieces of my soul, I cement it onto my willing flesh and offer it to him, beaten and bruised, hurt me for I am yours to hurt, love me for I am yours to love, fuck me for I am yours to ruin for every man that ever dares to lay his eyes upon me. 

I don’t let him fuck me, I beg for it, pray for it every night, sigh a deep breath of relief when I feel his strong hands touch me, possessively because of course he is, unnecessarily so because who else could I possibly want but you, my sweet? He is rough when he feels like it, when he needs it, fucks into me with reckless abandon, snarls meanly when I cry because he doesn’t care if it hurts, I was made to take the pain as long as he’s the one delivering it, I bear it like I bear the cross of loving him until my heart fails me. No color looks as good on me as the red of his handprints, no sound sweeter than his groans as he carves a space in my body that belongs to him only, his hard cock pushing my organs into place, so he’ll fit whenever he wants to, for the rest of time. He looks so good when he takes and takes and takes, takes from my pliant body as I give and give and give until I can’t give no more, until my tears run dry, and my voice becomes hoarse and my grip on his godlike body turns into a gentle hold of desperation. You’re mine to use, he says, mine to abuse if I want to, all you do and all you are is for me, for me only, I fuck you and you thank me, I make you cry and you thank me, I pull orgasm after orgasm from your weeping cunt and you worship me for what I turn you into.

And what he turns me into is a brainless girl drooling after the man of all men, chasing his praise and crawling after the strength of his presence, ready to serve at all times. 

He often comes home tired and there I am, leading him into a sitting position so I can crawl between his strong legs, nuzzle at his crotch while he pets me like his little kitten, like his well-trained little lapdog, like an animal he had to break in before its rightful use. The smell of him soothes me- my favorite cologne of his, the faint smell of cigarette smoke, the manly musk that’s always an undertone- and with shaking hands I pull his zipper down, look at the man of my dreams as I free his cock, stare into his loving gaze as I hungrily lower my mouth onto him. It’s the closest thing to God I’ve ever known, being on my knees for him, tasting him so unabashedly. His groan comes deep from within his chest as I lick his cock, savor every taste of it like a starved woman, breathe him in as not to forget this moment for the rest of my life. Taking it all is a difficult task, burns in the back of my throat and behind my nose, but the clench of his jaw and the heat in his eyes could bring me to bear full bodied pain if it meant I could get his attention on me like that forever,  and so I spit and gag and choke and moan and let him push me down until his full balls are hitting my chin, until my eyes roll so far back into my head I fear missing even a second of his visible ecstasy. The pull of his hand is a welcome burn, the push of his strength a welcome motivator, his cum down my throat a goal I chase with unhuman vigor. When I do earn it, feel the taste of it hit my tongue, the heat of it slip down my throat and the sensation of it settling deep in my stomach, it’s like my brain short circuits and I have to resist the urge to pant like a bitch in heat, stare up at him wide-eyed as if to ask did I do good, tell me I did good, please tell me how good I did, please give it to me again, please give it to me more, please please please-

When he slides into me, it feels like he touches parts of me that nobody has ever been to before. 

Sometimes it’s relentless, like when he makes me ride him, veiny hands on my full hips as he heaves my body up and down, stares up at me with reverence as I cry silent tears because for sound, I’d need air, and for air to fill my lungs, his cock would have to not be punching into them, and when he fucks me like that, it feels like that is simply not possible. He loves me enough not to care when I beg him to go easy, because he knows me better than I know myself, and the day my cunt is satisfied with easy is the day hell freezes over. He keeps me naked always, says it’s his favorite way of me being, undresses when he can, when we’re in our bed and time doesn’t exist in our realm of depravity and his only goal is to make me cum until I am close to passing out, by which point he would- after many conversations and many instances of me begging begging begging for it- just continue if he felt like it, take what’s his no matter the state I am in. I am vessel for his pleasure and he is to take what is his, who am I to deny him? When it needs to be quick and dirty he unzips his fly and has me bounce on his cock just like that, balls out for my clit to rub against with every move, adorns my ass with gorgeous marks as he goads me to go faster, that’s my girl, you love this shit don’t you, don’t slow down now, fuckin’ move, work for it, work that cunt, you’re gonna make me cum baby, fuck yeah, you’re gonna make me- 

Sometimes it’s sweet, face to face and chest to chest, him buried so deep in me that I don’t know where he starts and where I end, I only know that he will be my end, a pleasurable demise on the most addictive cock I ever had the fucking honor of experiencing. He kisses me, then, coaxes my tongue out of my mouth so he can lick at it, suck on it, no lips involved when he wants it nasty like that, slick and spit filled. When he kisses my lips, he bites at them, makes them bleed and soothes them lovingly, a reminder to carry with me for days to come. I open my mouth wide and he spits into it, makes me keep it in, sometimes, just because he can, makes me show it to him before he allows me to swallow it, and he has to allow it, I do not operate without his permission. Strong forearms on either side of my dizzy head, my angelic face in his capable hands, his weight on top of my willing body, suffocating me from all sides, from the inside, just the way I need, sweet talking me until I go dumb. My gorgeous girl, all for me, cry so prettily, can you feel me baby?, feel how deep I am?, fuck my cock is splitting you fucking open, ‘m gonna make you cum again and again, pump you full with my seed while I make love to you, gonna breed you so you’re full with my babies, so they know they were made from love as Daddy fucked Mommy until she cried for mercy on his cock.

Sometimes, it’s a devilish mix of pain and pleasure in a way only he can deliver, drilling into me with my legs on his muscular shoulders, holding me and making me take it, just a fucking fleshlight, stop fuckin’ crying, what the fuck you crying for, imma give you something to really cry about, my own body not giving me a choice but to take it, my heart bursting from how well he’s making use of me. When it’s from behind, face down ass up for him to play with as he pleases, if he pleases, I feel like all my three holes are stuffed even if it’s just one of them, the heady slapping of skin against skin as he takes me in the most primal, animalistic way. It’s not like he’s ever been shy with it, from the get-go his hand has found its place in my hair, pulling my head back when he wants to lean over and spit on my face, rub it in nice and rough and blush my cheeks with skilled palms, from the get-go he’s known how to grab at my ass and spread it so it’ll feel like he’s about to split me in half, just to watch me squirm and cry, only to let him anyways. Always, always let him anyways. Thaaaat’s right, he’d husk, then, take it, my dirty fucking girl, I’ll ruin these holes baby, you’re all mine, you wan’ it so bad, desperate little slut, let me hear you, let me hear you.

Sometimes I’m dumb for it, laying on his chest while keeping his cock warm in me, keeping it in so his cum would stay in me, not ready to let go of it yet. I mouth at his chest, lick the sheen of sweat off his pecs and revel in the salty taste on my hungry, bury my face in his neck and breathe him in until my lungs are filled with his scent. Gentle bites along his hardened muscles, sucking bruises into his skin because he is mine as much as I am his, what is a God without his most devout believer, whining when I feel him harden again within the clutch of my heat. It rarely happens that he doesn’t fuck me through at least one other toe-curling orgasm, doesn’t position me how he needs me to give it to me good, whether it be on my back with my hands behind my knees so he can gut-punch me with the sensitive tip of his cock or on our sides with my leg at an angle so he can make me feel the slow, wet drag of his thickness, stretching me out, sure to leave a gape when he’s done wrecking me for his amusement.

Sometimes, he cums inside of me and tells me about how he wants to pump me full of his babies, throws my legs behind my head, so it can’t leak out, so it’ll take. What he also likes is to pull out, cover my aching clit in his hot seed, fuck it with his hand until I scream myself mute, or decorate my spasming stomach with tasty white ribbons, or renaissance paint my face to compete with Michaelangelo’s accomplishments while I keep my tongue stuck out, eyes open to witness his pantie-dropping orgasm face and gladly risk a painful shot in the eye for it, eagerly licking his seed off his fingers when he feeds me so generously. And feed me he does, always, whether it be from what he wipes off my body, or what he pulls out when he sticks his fingers into my full pussy, makes me push it out or watches it drizzle out slowly when he spreads me wide, drives his hand through it and makes me lick it off like his eager little puppy, grateful for a treat. 

Sometimes, he breeds me before he buries his gorgeous face between my trembling thighs, eats my pussy until I give up another shaking orgasm, sucks his cum out of my used hole and spits it straight onto my awaiting tongue, makes me keep it while using my eyes to beg him to let me swallow, that cocky asshole enjoying my neediness for him. That’s one of my favorites, proves to me that there are no bounds for the nastiness he’ll put me through just to prove to me the one thing I’ve been craving to know: that I really was made for his pleasure, that I really do exist to be his plaything, and that he loves every little fiber of my dirty little being. 

One day, in a hundred year’s time, they’ll find me in the earth and spot his fingerprints on my bones, his teeth marks along my jaw, the sliver of his soul wrapped around every single cartilage that makes up my spine, around the very structure that has held me upright my whole entire life, they’ll ask if that is what it was or another force entirely, and they wouldn’t be wrong to question it.

My body isn’t mine, not really, not when he reminds me of it so often by claiming me, owning me, using me, loving me until all I am is his cockdrunk little love.

[sunarots]

taste ━━━ suna rintarou & miya osamu

27. starter ♡

"There she is!"

You can feel all the eyes fall onto you as you enter the gymnasium — unfortunately, not just your team members. The other practicing teams turn to watch you enter, gripping your clipboard so tight it's a wonder that it's not broken.

Bokuto throws his ball at Iwa so he can come running over to you. "Have you got the positions? Can we see them?" He leans in so close you can almost taste his anxiety.

"I'm just about to read it out, okay? Jesus, give me a chance." You step around Bokuto and approach your bench, setting your stuff down behind it. You turn to face your team, all of them looking at you like they might throw up.

Shaking your head, you raise your clipboard in the air. "In my hand are your starting positions for this game only. You will receive your next game's positions half an hour before the match is set to start. If you ask me earlier, you're not starting. That goes for everyone."

"What if the match is set to start at three but then it starts at half past two? Do we find out half an hour before then, or do-"

You raise a hand, stopping Suga from spiralling. "You will find out when you find out. Can I read out your positions now, or do you want to talk about this some more?"

Noya goes to raise a hand, his arm being hit away by Suga.

"Position one is Sakusa. Position two is Atsumu. Position three is Bokuto. Position four is Suna. Position five is Akaashi. Position six is Noya. Noya, you will be subbed with Osamu when you're up front and Suga for serving. Does anyone have any complaints?"

"I'm not starting, but Atsumu is? Are you kidding me?" Osamu crosses his arms over his chest.

"We need a strong block, strong receive, and a strong serve. This rotation is based on everyone's overall skills. Not starting does not equal not playing." You shrug your shoulders, setting your clipboard down on the bench. "Get back to practicing, please. We don't have long."

Everyone but Osamu continues back to the court, anxious to start playing. He lurks towards you, blocking you from approaching Kuroo. "If we need a strong block, why is Akaashi immediately rotating to the front?"

"Because it means that for every rotation we have a setter in the front," you explain, resting your hands on your hips. "I already told you all of this."

"I thought you were joking! Why the hell is Suna starting?"

"Because he's a good blocker, Osamu. That's what he excels at."

"But I'm not good enough, is that it?"

You furrow your eyebrows. "What? No, that's not- What are you talking about?"

"I shouldn't have let you go to the fucking party alone. He got in your head again, didn't he?"

You feel your stomach sinking at the accusation, but the frustration takes over. "How many times do I have to tell you that I made those choice based on how everyone performs. If you were so desperate to start, you should have practiced more."

"You think that just because coach isn't here, you can make all these big calls-"

"Enough, Osamu!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. "My decision is final and if you keep arguing, you won't start this season."

He scoffs, backing away from you. "I should have known it was true."

You watch with a frown as Osamu approaches the team, picking up a ball to practice his serves. With a sigh, you sit down on the bench and grab your bottle. "This'll be a long day."

The first set finishes with a win for your team, taken with ease. Suga grabs his bottle from beside you before following Noya to the other side of the court. "Good job out there, team!"

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

You look up at Suna, nodding once. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Tomorrow we're up against Sendai and they use the same rotation. You should match me with their little one. He serves, so Noya should receive."

"Okay, I'll take that into account. Kiyoko said they have a new coach, though, and she might change things up." You pick up your clipboard to write it down, tensing up when someone shoves Suna away from you.

Suna stumbles back, almost taking Bokuto down with him (luckily for him, Bokuto's a tank). "What the hell, man?"

"That's my fucking girlfriend, Sunarin. Get that into yer head, yeah?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? I was just giving her advice-"

"She doesn't want anything you fucking give out." Osamu jabs a finger at Suna, the rage taking over.

"It was about the match tomorrow-"

"Stay out of this!"

You flinch back at Osamu's tone, looking around you in horror as he continues yelling at Suna. All eyes have fallen onto your team, and not for the reason you'd like.

"You're fucking crazy, get the hell off me!"

"I know you fucked her at the party, you ugly fuck!" Osamu shoves him again, Suna managing to stand his ground.

Your eyes grow wide, turning to Iwaizumi. "Why would you tell him that!? You know that's not true!"

Iwa's jaw drops, pointing at himself in shock. "Me? I didn't tell him anything!"

"So it's true? Rubi was telling the truth?" Osamu looks at you for confirmation.

"No! We didn't fuck! We just...kissed a little."

"Just!?"

"Yeah, just- Wait, when did you talk to Rubi?"

"She fucking texted me. I can't believe this. You guys are the fucking worst." Osamu spins around to fully face you, his face red. "I can't believe I ruined a friendship for you. I can't believe I thought you were worth it. Rubi was right about you. A slut in high school, a slut now-"

"Don't fucking call her that," Suna snaps, grabbing Osamu's shoulder to get his attention.

Osamu spins around, throwing his fist at Suna. His knuckles hit his jaw with full force, knocking him down. "Don't fucking touch me!"

One of the referees blows a whistle, rushing across the court. He starts shouting at Osamu, Kuroo stepping in to try and get the argument to settle. You pass your clipboard to Iwa. "You and Kuroo are in charge. If Osamu can't play, put in Suga. Keep the rotation for as long as possible. We're serving first. Just trust Sakusa, okay?"

Iwa nods his, allowing you to help Suna up. He lets out a sigh and looks around the team, shaking his head in disappointment. "What the fuck just happened.”

# fun fact !

iwa’s lowkey questioning his existence right now

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when your ex starts dating your least favourite person on campus, your ex-best friend from high school, you can’t help but feel a little betrayed. you quickly realise a way to get back at him: his best friend.

taglist (open!). @v3nusplanetofluv @mdmraz @thoughtswithbbg @fireinyoureye @wakashudou @jisookdays @tespho @frootloopscos @gigiiiiislife @walllflowerrrsss @tangerinelovr @datonegaybestfriend @sturnprincess @jpegarchives @justanotherweeb666 @1yeah1 @rrosiitas @yuu-via @zazathezaer @softpia @animenaces-world @loveelylani @punkhazardlaw @to-dino @nanamis-right-tiddie @aboutkiyoomi @arusio @aloore @dailyakira @alexithemiyatic @chemiru @p1nktulip @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @taefanclub @h3xi2g0n3 @rikidaze @mncxbe @luvelyjjk @iluv-ace @arwawawa2 @aldebrana @nanasrkives @passionfruitenthusiast @surfeitstar @dndjxkskcn @jiminscarmex

[icarusredwings]

Something in your kiss just told me, my sometime is now.

Pt 3

spidey moon/moon spider.

Specifically Jake.

Cw: Derealization, Mental health related insomnia, mentions of transphobia/homophobia, sex work, protective Jake Lockley, Possessive/flirty Jake Lockley, Peter your man's is Terrible at words.

Out in the hall, near the elevator, Jake puts out his arm for Peter to take, smiling. Even though it's mainly for him, Peter takes it anyway, leaning against him in his Pjs.

“Why thank you. And what a gentleman you are... Aunt May was right about you..” he mumbles soft praise into the air, but all Jake can focus on is the feeling of dread in his stomach.

Steven had a thing about dark hallways and elevators now that Khonshu scared the crap out of him with that old woman and sometimes Jake could feel it. The deep pit in his chest that came with the new phobia.

“Holá? Mi amor?”

“Hm?”

It's now that they're already in the parking garage. He stops walking, Blinking as he looks around for a second. “How did…?”

“You're okay. Steven popped out for a second.” Peter tells him, still holding his arm and now patted his chest. “You're alright. He just wanted to tell me that he really hates that elevator and wants to visit Aunt May again.”

“Mrs. Parker?” Jake asks, calming down, continuing to walk. Man. He hated when he did that. Even just for a second, it made him uncomfortable. That feeling of being pushed to the back seat all of a sudden? It made him think about the days where he did nothing but take the back chair until he was needed in the spotlight. The idea that, one day, the other two would decide they don't need him anymore and force him frozen to the chair of icey abyss that is their brain.

The headspace has opened up so much more since then. The cold turned warm, and now it was like the special tomato sauce that Mrs. Parker had set on the backburner to keep warm, rather than putting them in the freezer.

Peter chuckles. “She's going to whack you with a spoon if you keep calling her that.”

Jake swallows, deciding now was not time for those thoughts. He could think of them later when on the road, at a stop light or when washing the droplets of rain off his windshield.

Putting on a smile, he shakes his head. “Sí, she just might. Though at least I know where you get your fire from.”

“Heh, yeah.. Maybe this time she'll make something for Steven.”

Jake chuckles, his heeled shoes clicking against the quiet concrete. “I still can't believe she tried to feed him meatloaf.”

“I can. You know she still apologizes for that? To this day?”

“Oh, I know. I don't think she understands much about us though. She keeps calling me Jack.”

“Pfft! Why didn't you correct her?”

Jake shrugs, “And risk getting hit with a spoon?? No way.”

Peter giggles as they reach the cab. “You might have to change your name now.”

“Again? Ugh dios mio. Don't you think I have enough names?” He jokes, and again Peter giggles. Jake was convinced he wasn't that funny until Peter came along. Now it seems all his little bad jokes paid off.

Jiggling the keys in the door, he unlocks it, opening the door for him. “Después de usted señor.”

“Why, Thank you.” Peter grins, Blushing a bit as he gets in.

“De Nada. And If I have to change my name again, It certainly Isn't going to be Jack.”

“True. You don't look like a Jack.”

“Oh yeah? Who do I look like then?” He asks, once he opens the driver's side door, plopping himself down into the seat, it's worn into the shape and weight of him by now, something that was truly his own. 8069. It wasn't the best number but it was easy to remember and call him childish but he liked the number. His buddy Powell Had 4209. Which he thought was pretty funny and ironic seeing the man smelt like a damp basement all the time if you caught his drift.

Something about the Taxi held a special spot in his heart. Between the small bits of rust underneath, the plastic starting to peel off his Chauffeur license, the dent in the back left side door, the way it grumbled when he first turned the key after it had been still for a while. The way the paint was chipping on the driver door handle from how much he had to jerk it open from being stuck. How she got fussy when it was too cold and needed an extra time warming up before she'll run properly. It's not much but it's his. And that's what mattered the most.

Most cabbies had to pay a fee to drive their car, to pay rent to a place for it, But Jake paid that off already. Every shift change you could find a group of hairy gruff men gathered around with their lukewarm cardboard coffee cups and diner sandwiches complaining about their car. Bitching about traffic and which parts of town they refused to go to. But not Jake. Not to say that he doesn't congregate and wipe the black coffee from his mustache and grumble about construction work too, but he’d never utter a word about his car.

“Aye, Lockley. How's your misses?”

“Oh, don't bother with him. He's married to his cab.” They'd tease, and Jake would just laugh, leaning against his car, rubbing the hood. “Eh.. She's alright. Aintcha chica?” He’d say, playing into the gag, making the group chuckle.

“See? Guy's nuts. He drives East Harlem.” A particularly short man that most just called Mario (despite his actual name being Marcello) mutters.

“Yeah, what's up with that Lockley? You have a death wish or something?” A taller, thinner guy asks.

Jake crossed his arms, still leaning back. “I take people all over. Everywhere. Doesn't matter to me.” He shrugs. “I've been worse places.”

“Aren't you worried?” Marcello asked, finishing his coffee.

“Bout what? Gettin’ mugged?”

“About being popped? You go to Hell's Kitchen don'tcha?”

“Psh. Nah. What are they going to do? Kill me? I think I got that covered.” He said, patting his jacket. “ ‘sides i'on care who you are. I don’ care if you're homeless, rich, druggies, lawyers, pimps, prosties, drags, workin’ girls- or boys- Even them tranny ones.” He points out, “I don't judge. I'm here to protect ya. Is our duty. You step in my car,” he puts a hand on his chest. “Ain't no one touchin’ you. That's a promise.” he points a finger at them exaggerating before putting his hand back in his pocket.

“Our duty’? What are ya? Some kinda knight?” The taller one says, taking a bite of his melt.

Jake smirks, shaking his head, raising his shoulders. “You could say that.”

Driving in general honestly was something he held close to his heart. Making sure the travelers of the night were safe was only half of the part he liked. He enjoyed passing time, having something else to focus on other than his own thoughts. It wasn't often that Jake was alone, In fact he hated it. He had spent years hiding from Marc. Only doing the bare minimum to keep the body alive, always in the shadows of the back of his mind when he drove.

While it was harder to drive the limo in London, especially because of the kiss assing and smooth talking he had to do, it gave him a similar sense of control and stability. As much as Jake hated routine jobs, that's what was fun about being a cabbie. So many people lived so many different lives. Each person was going to their own place for their own reason, all with their own stories.

“Jake?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

His gloved hands tighten around the wheel, his shoulders relaxing from their tense state as if coming back to reality. He tries not to make it obvious that he was just somewhere else. How he was driving right now was a miracle, but that was one of his special gifts, aside from being able to find a good Diner. Driving on auto pilot was dangerous, and with Peter in the car?

He bites his tongue, softly scolding himself for being so reckless. He's just left the parking garage and was down the street, though he didn't remember. Swallowing, he smiles. “Yeah, Why do you ask?”

“Because you just called me hon..”

“What? Noo. I said hombre.” He saves, peeking into headspace to thank Marc for covering for him, even if Peter could tell just from their words and tone alone who was speaking.

“Oh, yeah? And why did you call me ‘man’ Then?” Peter asks, Crossing his arms and raising his brow, His seatbelt under the blanket.

“Oh, come on. I'm just messing with you, amor.”

“Uh huh…sure. Is this because I said you look like Burt Reynolds?”

Jake turns to look at him, smirking with a soft chuckle. “What?? No..”

“Alright… You'll tell me if somethings wrong. Right? Corazón?”

“Sí.”

“Es de nada?”

“...Sí”

Again he rolls his eyes, looking out the window as droplets of rain start to fall. “Mentiroso..”

Passing Gina's he gets an idea. “Hey. Are you hungry? I know a good sub place.” Jake offers, An olive branch of a guilty apology.

“... Do they have meatball?” Peter asks, Looking at him from the corner of his eye arms still crossed, hesitant to accept the arm, not wanting Jake to think he could get away with lying to him.

“With swiss. Just how you like.” He reassures, grinning at him with a lopsided smile and knit together brows.

Sighing, Peter smiles. “.. And I want a hot chocolate..”

“Dealio!”

His hand comes off the wheel, resting it on Peter's knee.It's not pushed away..

“Never say that again…”

______

Leaving the small corner shop, Jake is smiling, using his coat to shield Peter from the rain back to the taxi. The stink of the trash in the street and the way the rain hit the asphalt smelt like home, yes. But Peter's smile shone in the dark like his own personal halo, guiding him on the right path. (Perhaps Peter Was something of a path finder himself)

Opening the door for him, Peter laughs as he holds the bag of food and the drink holder. “What are you doing? Steven is going to kill you!” He says in response to Jake letting his hair get soaked simply to keep his lover dry.

Chuckling, He purposely pushes his hair back, water dripping from it. “Eh, Nah, He knows we look good wet. Dontcha think, Salero?” He purrs, Throwing the wet leather over his shoulder, his arm on the top of the taxi, leaning down In hopes of getting one of those cheesy movie rain kisses.

Giggling, the man in his pajamas leans up, inches from him. It's not until someone yells, “Aye! What are you? Some kinda faggot!? Keep that shit inside!” that Peter notices a small group of guys talking under the awning of the deli.

Slowly, Jake stands up straight, closing his door, no longer caring how soaked he was getting, his button up sticking to his skin like a wet paper towel on glass. “¿Tienes algún problema con eso?”

The man scoffed, flicking away a cigarette, clearly ready to get physical if needed.

“Aww what do we got here? Some snotty white boy and his bodyguard? Ey how much is he paying you to dress like this huh? This aint the 50s brother!”

Before Jake can open his mouth, Peter rolls down the window. “He isn't my bodyguard! He's my boyfriend you asshole! And I don't pay him anything to have class! Unlike you!”

Some people fall in love with people because they're funny. Some people fall in love because they're kind. Some people fall in love because they're strong and good-looking.

Some people.. amongst other things.. fell in love with Spider-man because of these reasons.

But not him. Fuck, not him. No.. for Jake fell in love with photographer Peter Parker. For two reasons, actually.

1. His smile was as bright as a small sun that made Jake's sunflower of a heart bloom. 2... well... He was stupid.

It was so incredibly dumb to think that Peter Benjamin Parker could ever love a man like him. Now that? That was crazy.

God, what he would give to get it.. why on Earth Peter Parker *did* love him. How dumb could Peter be? To fall for a man like him? He must be mad.. too bad Jake was three times amount that crazy.

Too bad that Crazy was a good look on him. And too bad that Peter Parker, who was just bonkers enough to want to hold his hand in public, had a thing for masked menaces. Turns out... Peter *likes* crazy bastards who went around stabbing people in the night, who pearched tall buildings to be closer to the moon, who wore pure white just because he *enjoyed* the fear that came into bad guy's eyes when they saw him. (Either that or liked paying an ungodly amount of money for dry cleaning and hydrogen peroxide)

So why in the world, would the nïave, humble, diving- off- sky-scrapers- for- fun- head- first, give- you- his-last-penny, crazy, *Amazing* Peter Parker, ever openly tell people on the street that nuthouse frequenter, so- much-blood- on- his- hands- he- could- drown- in- it, lowlife, cab driver Jake Micheal Hernandez Lockley was his Boyfriend?

Not even God knew... But Jake was glad.

“Stay in the car wuss boy! The adults are talking!” One of them say, the one in the front taking A few steps forward. “You really going to let your bitch defe-”

It took one word for Jake to punch him in the jaw, the other in the nose and chased the last one 4 buildings down before stopping, growling at the idea of letting him get away but there was a beauty waiting for him.

Making his way back to the car, Jake takes a deep breath, putting his hat on as he climbs into the cab. “Holá.”

“Hello, my knight.”

Jake takes his hand, kissing his knuckles. “¿Estás bien?”

“I'm alright. Are you?”

He lets out a hum, feeling his knuckles bruising already from how hard he hit that guy. Still though, he nods. “Sí.”

“Uh huh.. I'll wrap your hands when we get home.”

Jake can't help but smile. Peter knew him too well. It made him feel worth something. Feel.. Real.

“At this point you might as well just admit to the moonlighting.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, taking his coffee when handed to him. “Gracias.”

“I mean, you playing knight all the time. If you like fighting so much why don't you just become a Lucha Libre fighter? You already wear the mask.”

Jake scoffs, almost spitting out his coffee, Hitting himself in the chest as he coughed. “You.. you want me to become a luchador? Where's the fun in that?”

Peter gently jabs Him in the side. “What? Afraid you'll lose?”

“¿A mí? ¿Asustado? No”

“Why not? You can be Señor beat down or.. something.” Peter takes a bite of his sub, grumbling when a thick drop of sauce fell down his chin.

Pulling his face close, Jake licks the sauce up, smirking with his chin still in his hand. “You just want to see me all sweaty in a cage fight. Hate to tell ya princessa. Been there. Done that.. besides.” He lets go, leaning back, stretching the wet fabric and pushing his hair back again, the hydration making his curls form more defined and.. well.. Sexy.

“I'd be La Luna..”

The way he trails off makes Peter want to ask him if by ‘been there done that’ it meant he's already done some amateur fighting, maybe for money. The glance he gives out the window has him smiling, looking at his lap blushing. Something told him that he should really stop getting boners every time Jake beat the shit out of someone, but he couldn't help it.

“Do you have a permit to be this hot, Mr. Lockley?” He asks him, trying his best to flirt and not make a mess with his surprisingly saucey sandwich. Maybe it was the fact there were balls in his mouth, or maybe Jake finally got the joke a bit late (better than never) but he Just laughed at Peter.

“Ahh.. Cariño.. you're adorable.”

“Thanks. But seriously I'm going to have to fine you if you don't have proper paperwork.”

“Then I'm afraid you'll have to arrest me, officer… though..” His hand comes up to fiddle with his tie, loosening it and very slowly opens the first two buttons. “I'm sure you can let me off with a warning, Señor~”

Peter's grip on the sub tightens as a bunch of sauce rushes down his hands. “Aw- Damn it.” Starting to reach for a napkin, his wrist is grabbed and again his tongue slathers over the veins, eyes staring At him. Peter follows his tongue, face turning the same shade as the sauce dripping from his palms. Suckling each finger clear of the sticky tomato paste, a shit eating grin on his face.

“So.. about that ticket?”

Staring, Peter is speechless, A million words running through his mind but none made it past his lips. Instead he slowly swallows, moving the pillow over his lap. “Y-yeah… Sure..I'll let you off on a warning.”

“Gracias, Officer. Much appreciated.” He smiles, pulling down the mirror and began to clean himself up, readjusting his tie and buttoning his shirt again.

“What's with you and night drives anyway? I mean… Why don't you take the day?”

“Someone's gotta do it.” He says, pressing His hat back on and fixing his mustache a little.

Peter giggles. “Careful. You'll turn into V.”

“If Steven ever drives my girl, I better be dead.” Jake states, pushing it back up before clicking on his lights to signify he was on duty.

Another soft snicker comes from Peter as his eyes wander to the moon, haunting and shining on the from above. “What do you mean?”

“Que?”

“Someone's gotta do it.” He quotes, turning to look at him with concern plastard over his face.

“Someone has to make sure the travelers of the night get to where they're going safely. Right? There's no ‘broad daylight’ to protect them.”

“Oohh… Okay..so you are playing knight tonight. Just.. secretly.”

Jake shrugs, hands on the wheel but not in drive yet. “You could say that.”

“Jaakkee..is that the only reason you come out here all night? I thought it helped you relax.”

“It does.” He says, immediately confirming this so as not to give him the wrong idea.

“All the weirdos come out at night. It's my kinda crowd. And it's my job to protect them…I've had the scum of the city in this car.”

Peter sighs heavily. “I'm assuming you're including yourself in that statement?”

“What are you? A cop?”

Peter chuckles.

Finishing his sandwich, Peter decides that this isn't a battle he wanted to fight. Let the man drive people around. What harm could come from that? And if It meant he could sleep later with A peace of mind then who cares? Poking the tin wrapped sammy, his head tilts.

“You aren't hungry?”

“I'll eat it later.” He promises, watching as Peter sips his hot chocolate, Holding the warm cup in his hands with a big yawn.

Clicking on the radio, Jake smiles, his brows raising as his half lids rested lazily over the fantasy green that filled the outskirts of his iris.

Everybody loves somebody sometime.

Everybody falls in love somehow.

His eyes soften. Jake always adored his sleepy smiles and half lidded looks. “Someone's sleepy.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss his temple, letting this be an excuse to tug on his seat belt, being sure it was secure.

Something in your kiss just told me,

My sometime is now.

Leaning back, he puts on his own, a stressful breath leaving his lungs, shoulders dropping as he gave himself a moment to just… Sit in the moment. Enjoy his love's quiet murmurs of ‘I’m not tired’ only to yawn A second time. Peter was always like this. Becoming tired after eating. Especially when he felt this safe. Who couldn't feel comfy, warm and loved with one of the Avengers most wanted sitting next to him, a blanket that smelled of home, old leather seats squeaking under him and the city's sirens lulling him to sleep.

Everybody finds somebody someplace.

There's no telling where love may appear.

Gently taking the hot chocolate from his hands, he places it in the cup holder, taking his fingers into his hand, Letting Peter hold it for a few more seconds as he finishes his little cardboard cup of coffee.

The soft snores and tapping of rain on his windows, the swishing of his wipers, the smooth voice of Dean Martin filling his ears as he slipped into the swing of things. Sitting up, he leans over to put his jacket over him, lifting his chin slightly to place it over his shoulders.

“There.. que duermas bien mi amor… dulce novio.” He whispers, “I got you.. promise.”

Something in my heart keeps saying,

My someplace is here.

This is where he belonged wasn't it?

With Peter. In an old taxi. Driving in the darkness of the city, bringing passengers to where they needed to go…If he was a knight, this ol girl, 8069, was his trusty steed. And Peter? His passenger princessa.

Guess he's taking the nice parts of town tonight..

[woozinhos]

omgggg the woo one was so cute!! can we get the same with jongho??

Notes: sorry I just have to write every Ateez request I get I’m like AHHH anyways enjoy this cutie

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Jongho had been trying for a baby for a while, and you were starting to think it might never happen. But one day, you noticed that you were feeling more tired than usual and your period was late. You took a test, and to your surprise, it was positive. You couldn't believe it, but you were so happy. You knew Jongho would be over the moon when you told him. You waited until he got home from work, trying to contain your excitement as you waited for him in the living room. When he walked through the door, you held up the test with a big smile on your face.

"Guess what?" you said. Jongho's eyes widened as he saw the test in your hand. "No way," he said, walking over to you in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

You nodded, tears of joy streaming down your face. "I'm pregnant," you confirmed. "We're going to have a baby." Jongho let out a loud whoop and scooped you up in his arms, spinning you around in circles. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed, setting you down and peppering your face with kisses. "I'm so happy, baby. You have no idea."

You laughed and hugged him tightly, feeling overwhelmed with happiness. "I can't believe it," you said, resting your head on his chest. "We're going to be parents. We're going to have a little Jongho or Y/N running around." Jongho smiled and placed his hand on your stomach, gently rubbing it. "I can't wait to meet them," he said softly. "I'm going to be the best dad I can be, I promise." Jongho hugged you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he held you close.

"I love you so much," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you for giving me this gift." As the hug continued, you heard soft sobs coming from Jongho. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with concern.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, wiping away his tears. "Why are you crying?" Jongho sniffled and looked at you with teary eyes. "I'm just so happy," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm happy and scared and overwhelmed all at once. I never thought I could feel this much love for someone."

You smiled and cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away his tears. "It's okay to feel all those things," you reassured him. "I'm feeling the same way. We're going to be a family, Jongho. We'll get through this together." Jongho nodded, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "You're right," he said, leaning into your touch. "We can do this. I have you by my side, and that's all I need." Jongho looked at you with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. A small laugh escaping his lips. "We tried for so long, and it didn't seem like it was going to happen. But now it has, and it feels like a dream come true."

He took your hands in his, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm so grateful for you, Y/N. You're the reason this is happening. You're the love of my life." You smiled and squeezed his hands, feeling your heart swell with love for him. "And you're the love of mine," you replied. "I can't wait to see our baby grow and watch them grow up with you by my side." Jongho pulled you into another hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you once more. "I'm going to be the proudest dad ever," he declared. "I'm going to spoil our child rotten."

You laughed and playfully smacked his arm. "Don't spoil them too much, or they'll turn out just like you," you teased. Jongho chuckled and pretended to be offended. "Hey, what's wrong with that?" he asked, grinning. "I'm awesome." Jongho kissed the top of your head, a content sigh escaping his lips. He held you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms and knowing that you were carrying his child.

"I'm the luckiest man alive," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm glad I did it."

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝖽' ༄࿔ 𝖡.𝖢.

⤷ Size Kink | Stomach Bulge | Teratophilia (Wolf-Hybrid)

♱ word count: 1.8k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, Red Riding Hood reader x Wolf Hybrid Chan, I never specify body type but this has stomach bulge & Chris is described to be bigger than the reader so read at ur own discretion, size kink, teratophilia, knotting, kinda corruption?, bribery/coercing, lowkey kinda mean chris (everyone act surprised. Sian wrote mean dom), rough sex + big dick chris with no mentions of prep, biting, public sex? Its in a forest but nobody is around, 1 use of “good girl’

sorta proofread

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Tsk tsk tsk… You should know better than to be this far out in the woods, Red. You know this is my territory.”

“C-Chris! Listen… I’m really sorry but I need that plant over there. Grandma isn’t doing well and the only remedy that will help needs just a few of those flowers…” The tall man looks over his shoulder, eyeing the purple-colored flowers that you had pointed out.

“Hm… Okay, you can have a few.” The bright smile that grew on your face was almost enough to let you take it for free. Almost.

“Thank-” “On one condition.” 

“C’mon, sweet girl. You know I don’t do things for free~” His rough fingers stroked your cheek and he couldn’t help but grin as your smile dropped. The canines that peeked out from behind his plump lips were enough to bring you back to reality and remind you that he was in fact still a wolf hybrid and not so much your “friendly” neighbor.

“What exactly do you want…?” His grin seemed to get wider before he took his bottom lip between his teeth. A predatory glint took over his eyes as he slowly looked you up and down.

“I have something in mind…”

“Open the fuck up.”

His growl rumbles from deep within his chest and he thrusts his hips forward aggressively, causing you to cry out. Your thighs ache from the action, along with your swollen pussy thanks to the big dick that was currently tearing your insides up. You lost count after the first 5 inches, and now the seemingly never-ending length was quickly becoming too much for you.

He knew this all too well. But that didn’t stop him from forcing you and your little human body to take every last inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“C’mon Little Red, you can take it. You need to, remember?” He chuckles and pushes your thighs further apart. “You need those pretty little flowers, so you need to take my fucking cock.” His smile drops at the end of the sentence and he pulls out just to roughly thrust back inside. You moan out in surprise and his fingers dig further into your thighs, leaving crescent-shaped divots in your skin. 

“P-Please…” He clicks his tongue and leans forward more, shoving his face into your neck with another growl. With this, he manages to push another inch or two into your puffy hole, but your mind is so foggy that you don’t even notice it right away. The feeling of him breaching your walls so aggressively, all while he growls and huffs about how he needs to be all the way in for it to “count as payment” makes your head spin.

Even more so as a sob rips from your throat when he finally bottoms out. Your jaw drops and you squeal as his hips grind against yours, causing him to feel deeper all while he rubs against your G-Spot so perfectly. He throws his head back at the feeling of you completely wrapped around him and groans deeply when you clench subconsciously.

“There we go~ Good job, baby.” He licks a stripe up your neck before placing kisses all over it, letting you take a few seconds to breathe. He wasn’t that much of a brute- he did still care for you after all. Plus, what good is a new toy if you break it so early on!? So he takes a few seconds to himself, backing away and fixing his posture, allowing him to get a good look at you. And God do you look exquisite.

He licks his lips and looks over your body multiple times, doing everything in his power to burn this image of you into his head. He starts with your pretty lips, swollen and shiny with drool, and then your flushed cheeks that are wet from the fat tears that fall down them.

His eyes glance at your arms, smiling to himself at the army of goosebumps that have littered your skin as your body shakes deliciously with what he can’t decipher if it’s pleasure or pain. Your chest catches his eyes next; the way it heaves with each breath you take makes his chest swell with pride. But the thing that took the most of his attention, was the not-so-little bump on your tummy.

His lips were slightly parted and his breath was quickening as he lightly traced the outline of his dick. It’s at this point that he realizes just how large and wide he is compared to you. He’s always noticed- it’s quite hard not to. But when he has you like this, below him and completely at his mercy, he finally realizes just how much bigger he is. The sun only urges him further, casting a giant shadow over you that completely covers you and some of the ground you lay upon.

It makes his instincts go absolutely crazy and he can’t hold himself back from experimentally thrusting, moving at an angle that makes the bulge more prominent. The squeak you let out causes his eyes to flicker back up to your face, essentially snapping him out of the daze he was in. And when he meets your confused face looking up at him, he realizes how long he has been staring.

“Haha… Take a look at this, baby.” He wipes some of your tears and tilts your chin to help you look down. The desperate moan you let out sends his ego to the moon, causing him to twitch against your walls. He huffs out a laugh in disbelief and begins to move his hips, thrusting into you slowly yet roughly.

“I’m so deep… You feel that, baby?” His hand moves from your thigh and pushes down on your lower stomach, right on top of where the bulge popped out each time he bottomed out. “Fffuck.. ‘S my fat cock in your tummy?”

“God- Fuck, shut up Chris-” You clench tightly at his words despite your words and he ignores you in favor of picking up his pace, groaning when your walls flutter around him even more.

“You feel so fucking good. It’s almost like this pretty pussy was meant for me.” You swear you almost see his eyes roll into the back of his head, but he immediately brings your attention away by folding you in half. Pushing your knees to your chest and letting your ass hang in the air as he completely hovers over you, fucking into you with carnal need.

This new position makes you see stars and he uses it to his advantage, pounding into you and not allowing you time to think straight. He chases this brutal pace until your legs begin to ache, the pain of it overpowering the pleasure and making you hurriedly tap on his shoulder and push him back, “Fuck, wait- my legs.”

He huffs in annoyance but responds immediately, sitting up straight and allowing your legs to fall to his sides. His hips continue to thrust shallowly as you breathe deeply and try to rub the ache away, but this break doesn’t last long. You owe him payment, and he wants it now.

So he pulls out, opting to quickly flip you onto your knees and push your chest into the ground. You’re given no time to object before he’s shoving his entire length back inside with a groan. Your body shakes at the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. The back of your throat even itches as if his tip was poking it. And god, did it genuinely feel like that.

It’s not hard for him to find his previous pace, especially now that you’re seemingly more pliant for him. The only disobedient action from you is your cries for him to slow down, but he has no plans to. Not when you look absolutely ruined below him.

He shushes you and leans forward, holding you down with his chest against your back as he continues to fuck you as if his life depends on it.

“Shhhhh… It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re gonna be good and take it right? You're gonna let the big bad wolf fuck your brains out? Yea?” Your fingers dig into the ground and you nod as best as you can with your cheek shoved against the floor.

He’s unhappy with the silent answer and bares his teeth, sinking them into your shoulder with a growl to “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes! Please, Chris!”

“Goood girl. Just sit there and take this fucking dick. Let Wolfy use you like the good chew toy you are.” The new name makes you clench tightly around him and he groans as you cum, causing the squelching noises to become even louder. He moans and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving small kisses before he chomps down again.

The overstimulation is starting to hit and you cry out, desperately pushing against the ground in hopes of pushing your torso up and off the floor. But that’s not what good toys do. So he growls against your neck and pushes you down, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he fixes his posture.

“No. You’re gonna sit still. Good toys don’t fucking move. I can’t knot you if you’re misbehaving.” As if to prove his point, his other hand digs into your waist, holding you even more still as he rams into you.

Thanks to his thick tip incessantly knocking into your cervix, you don’t process what he says right away. At least, not until you feel an extra mass pushing against your swollen folds. “W-Wait, your knot?!?”

You hear his earrings jingle as he tilts his head and you can almost hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he mocks you. “Yes, my knot. You’re gonna take it inside of this tight. little. cunt. And you’re going to take every last drop of my cum.” You go to disagree but your body reacts on its own, clenching around him and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

“F-Fuck- feels like you do like that idea, baby.” He grits his teeth and starts to focus on sharp thrusts. Once his knot finally breaches your hole, you sob into your arm and bite into it to hold back a scream.

He whines and grinds into you, rubbing against your G-spot roughly as he pushes himself over the edge. You can feel his breath on your neck, heavy and heaving as he pumps you full of his seed. His body shakes with each spurt of cum he releases, and the overwhelming movements are enough to push you over the edge again; the needy grinding from him mixed with the mind-numbing feeling of being overfilled, yet forced to hold every last bit, pushing you towards another orgasm.

“Mmmm… Hold it there, yeah? Keep my pups nice and safe in their new home, and I’ll let you take as many plants as you want. Deal, Little Red?”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

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@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[maccreadysbaby]

Some of My Favorite Ways to Describe a Character Who’s Sick

pressing their forehead into something cool or comfortable (this could be an array of things. the table, the floor, someones leather jacket, their water bottle, the countertop)

warm to the touch, or heat radiating from them (could be noticed if someone’s gauging their temperature with their hands, hugging them, or just generally touching them)

leaning into people’s touch, or just spontaneously leaning on them (like pressing into their hand when someone’s checking their temp, or just, like, literally walking up and laying their head on them from fatigue. bonus points if the character is usually feral and the other is scared to engage™︎)

falling asleep all over the place (at the dinner table, on their homework, in the car, in the bathroom — just being so exhausted from doing literally nothing)

being overly emotional (crying over things that don’t usually bother them, like their siblings arguing, or their homework, or literally just nothing)

stumbling/careening/staggering into things (the wall, furniture, other people. there is no coordination in feverish brains. running into chairs, hitting the door, falling over the couch, anything and everything)

slurring their words (could be from fatigue or pain. connecting words that shouldn’t be connected, murdering all of their conversations with the excessive use of ‘mm’ and ‘nn’ in place of words) (this is my favorite thing ever)

being overly touchy (basically like a sick kid — just hold them, please. do that thing where you brush their hair back out of their face, or rub circles on their back, or snuggle them. they won’t care. bonus points if this is also the feral character and they refuse to believe it afterwards)

being extremely resistant to touch (flinching away when they usually don’t so someone can’t feel the fever, not letting themselves be touched because they’re so tired they just know they’ll be putty in their hands if they do)

growing aggressive or being extremely rude (it’s a defense mechanism — they feel vulnerable and are afraid of being manipulated or deceived while they’re ill)

whimpering/whining/groaning (this was in my “characters in pain” post but it’s so good that i’m putting it here too. this shite is gold, especially if it’s just an involuntary reaction to their symptoms)

having nightmares caused by a fever and/or delirium (crying and murmuring in their sleep, or being awake but completely out of it and convinced they’re somewhere else)

making themselves as small as possible (curling up into a ball everywhere they lay, hunching over slightly when standing, wrapping their arms around themselves)

TW for vomiting below cut !!

sleeping in the bathroom floor because they keep getting sick over and over (bonus if someone finds them all weak and pitiful. bonus bonus if they find them there in the morning only to learn they’ve been there all night)

using their hands/other body parts to clamp over their mouth so nothing can come out (like pulling their knees up to their chest and using that, or like, their arm, y’know) (~maccreadysbaby who has emetophobia suddenly gets very awkward about this post~) (~yes i have a phobia of puke and still write this happening to my characters, shut up~) (~it’s about the hurt/comfort okay~)

sympathy pukers (people who aren’t the sick ones but get nauseous/vomit when they see someone else throw up) (~aka me~) (~okay I’m done now~)

dry heaving (it’s gross, but good for making your characters absolutely freaking miserable)

rolling/churning/spinning/cramping/ lurching and all those awesome words that describe what stomachs do when sick (i hate these words with a deep, fiery passion. but they’re good for writing or whatever)

[bongsavior]

Man sometimes. I want to rip my hairs out. All of em

And then my flesh, and then

[ervotica]

please don’t go, i love you so

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey

note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!

hunger games masterlist

Coriolanus is possessive.

It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.

It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.

It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.

He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.

There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.

You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”

His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.

“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.

He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.

“Nothing. I have you.”

“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.

“Coryo,” you pant.

“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.

“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.

You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”

The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.

“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”

“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”

“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.

“Wanna show me just where you belong?”

[lvrgirl-inc]

☆ ★ ☆

pair. Satoru Gojo x f!reader

wc. 1k

genres. House husband, stickers, smut, drabble, lowkey comedy, smut, riding, praise, teasing, “way to go superstar”, twt art, submissive(?) ‘Toru.

A/N: Random drabble written after seeing @baobei-bu ‘s twitter work (s) . Completely spontaneous. All credits to the artist, bravo.

☆ ★ ☆

————

There you were, stuffed full with delicious inches from your loving and ever the immature, Satoru. Large hands on your waist as you straddled his lap as your hips worked to suck him off with your body.

Panting like a dog and yet he still just looked..priceless. Not because of his facial expression, how he was biting down on his lip like it was the tastiest thing on earth, the grunts and whimpers that you earned with each slosh of your pussy—but the stickers.

Just a while before you two had gotten..well, here, you’d been showing off a sticker collection that the people at your job had acquired via cleaning the storage unit. Rainbows of multi and mono-colored cats, hearts, stars that had wound their way up on your boyfriend’s face. 

Though, when you’d placed one on his lips, using your own, he brought a thumb and his index up to your stomach. Just eyeing the expanse from fingertip to fingertip. Reasonably, you inquired what exactly he was doing and he breathed easily, “Just measuring.” 

“Measuring what?”

And absolutely nothing else came after that besides a lowering of those fluttering blanc lashes as he stared up at you. Already perched above him, covered in a few stickers, yourself.

Following that was easy for one to see how you were now riding a sticker-covered Satoru like your life depended on it.

The solo act of your cunt squelching and drooling all over his cock was interrupted by a sharp smack! directly to your ass, followed by an odd feeling in said location.

“Nghh..! ‘Toru, are you— f-fuck, are you kidding me..?” you’d complain in a breathless pant, looking down and over your shoulder a bit. Practically planted in the spot at this point, knees buckled and slack jawed just from his cock alone, this cheeky.. “Did you just- p-put a sticker on my—haah..!”

Swiftly cut off by another playful slap to the fat of your ass, he pulled that smug grin up at you, leaning forward to take up one of your perky tits into his mouth. He could probably never name another place or another taste better than his girls that always bounced so nicely when he was fucking you right. 

Gingerly sucking and tugging at your nipples, alternating between the two on either focal point of your breasts, you were reduced to a whiny mess on top of him easily. 

That straight shot just dragging and digging out your inner walls easily just as he pulled off your soft mound, replacing his mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding you spread nice for him. Looking up at you through that sweat dampened fringe of white. “Yeahhh, I gotta reward my lil’ superstar, don’t I?” he panted with the proudest smirk on his face. 

Bucking his hips up to meet yours one good time, your head cocked back with a mean jolt that went straight to your head. Fuck he hit that spot, dead-on too in a way that had your mouth hanging open dumbly. Nails scratching at his chest to a loose close.

You were just being wrecked. Drowned in praises with your insides clamping down around his thick shaft, the base giving your clit much needed attention with the steadily increasing succession of his dick’s mean pummeling up into you. 

And he had the nerve to slap another on the opposite cheek. “Bullseye~” in a sultry tone against your neck as he bit down on your collarbone, hooking his palms exactly where he’d slapped—two, now—stickers, using the hold to fuck himself mindlessly through your cunt. “Mhnn..s’fuckin’ tight…gold star every..time, fuuuck..” 

His voice would trail off, mouth coming back down to suckle on your tits again, laving his tongue all over your sensitive buds, even moaning with a good portion of the fatty flesh in his hot, wet maw. 

Giving you a rush of euphoria as you squeaked out the words, “Mhm, mhmm, jus’ like that, ‘Toru..” you’d breathlessly encourage, never stopping your own eager up and down as both of you selfishly chased your pleasure through the benefit of the other. “Shit, ‘m gonna cum..~” whining out as your face came down on his shoulder.

You could hear him groaning beside your head, his own leaning back as he raggedly, “Hnn..me too, me fuckin’ too..ughh..” already too lost in the feeling of your pussy crying down his cock and balls, dripping down his inner thighs easily as you started to clench and unclench around him faster.

“Gonna do it f’me, huuhh? Yeahh, yeah you are, my little star~” he rambled, his cock screwdriving your G-spot so precisely that you bit down on his shoulder, almost screaming into the skin there. “Hhh, f-fuck, gonna fill this cunt so fuckin’ good..God..”

And if Satoru was anything, he was honest. Selectively, albeit, but honest nonetheless. So when he whimpered against your skin in a pitch he only hit with you, or rather with your pussy, “Fuuck, mhnn, fucking…cummin’..” brows furrowed down to the hilts and the crown of his cock did the same thing inside you, seemingly nuzzling its way deeep in your guts.

Needless to say, you were right there with him, strangled moans tearing from your throat as your hips twisted and milked him for everything he had whilst he willingly dumped his load inside. Hot, velvety ropes of the stuff pouring down the sides of your inner walls as you both moaned through it, grinding each other straight into afterglow where Satoru reluctantly pulled out.

It was such a mess. Your cunt obscenely dripping with his handiwork. Using a thumb to slightly spread you out with the most perverse grin.

He took a second to adjust your positions, moving you from on his thighs to sort of bent over the couch arm, sated and trying to catch your breath. Meanwhile, he took the time to admire his little sticker job. Well, that and your utter exhaustion. “Pfft—did the stickers make you cum harder? It’s like praise within praise. Ah, I’m so clever.” coming from the man who was just whining your name over and over.

“Maybe they did..if I say yes, will you let me stack donuts on it?” now that made both of you cackle, even in your fucked-out and tired states.

He didn’t say no, though.

————

☆ ★ ☆

[shawtuzi]

here’s a random best friend!eren drabble bc im bored

cw include: black coded reader, some drug usage (weed), unprotected sex, backshots, sex standing up, sex onna floorrr, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, some choking [ inspo vids: 1 2 3 ]

“you sure about this y/n? i don’t want things to get weird . . .” eren mumbled, his hands fidgeting with the loops on his jeans—something he always did when he was nervous. you just giggled, your mind too cloudy and in a horny daze to care that your about to fuck your childhood best friend.

you were sitting at the edge of your bed with eren standing right in front of you, his large frame towering over yours. his breath hitched when you grabbed onto the hem on his jeans, your chin now resting on his lower stomach. you looked at him through your freshly done lashes, your eyes low n’ red from the blunt you previously smoked together.

“i jus’ wanna see what’s got those girls all crazy about you ren,” you practically purred, smirking when you saw his teeth clamp onto his bottom lip. you could feel the firm bulge in his jeans, your manicured nails trailing up and down the length of it.

“oooo s-shit, f-fuck okay yeah get on all fours.”

sometime later….

“o-oh my goddd, f-fuck erennnn!” your arms flailed behind you to push as eren’s stomach, but him being the dickhead he is, just grabbed your wrists and held you still. he had you bent over the bed, your feet pushing up to your tippy toes to keep up with his brutal thrusts.

“no no don’t run mama—fuck, jus’ take it. cmon fuck me back, fuck renny back,” you pitifully shook your head, salty tears seeping into your comforter.

in all the years you’ve known eren you weren’t aware of the fact that he had such a dirty mouth. filthy praises and promises were flying past his kiss swollen lips left and right, so much so it was making you even more dizzy than you already were.

“who knew my best friend had such a pretty lil’ pussy,” eren breathlessly chuckled, his tongue swiping against his bottom lip as he admired the milky white ring of your essence coating the base of his cock. “n-no eren, too fuckin’ deep s-shit!” you cried, legs trembling as eren pushed all of his weight into your backside. he swiveled his hips, determined to reach that special spot deep inside you.

“heh, now y’see why those girls w-won’t leave me alone, dick is too fuckin’ good ain’t it mama,” eren groaned, smacking your ass harshly. eren wasn’t the best at a lot of things, not that he even really tried to be, but one thing he knew he was good at was beating up some lucky girls guts. sure he wasn’t slanging nine inches, but don’t get it twisted he knew how to use his six and a half inches very, very well. after all it’s not about the size of the wave, but the motion of the ocean or whatever the fuck.

he pulled you up by the neck, keeping you still against his chest. your legs trembled, your hands pushing back softly against eren’s thighs to steady yourself. “this is my favorite way to fuck, it’s so fun watching girls try to run just for me to fuck them to the floor,” he finished off his sentence by licking the shell of your ear, grinning when he felt your body shiver.

“you’re—hah! you’re s-sick ren.”

“shittt say that again baby,” eren groaned, sliding halfway out before slamming back inside. his free hand found purchase on your breast, the other hand squeezing lightly at your neck. “you’re *thrust* so fucking *thrust* s-sick eren!” you gasped out, your hands flinging behind you to tug at eren’s disheveled bun.

all a sudden black dots clouded your vision and your ears began to ring—well this was definitely new. “fuck, you squirtin’ mama?” eren was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, his other hand still securely wrapped around your throat. he fucked you through your orgasm, hearts forming at how soaked his thighs were now. he’s never had a squirter before, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave this life after you two were done!

“i *hiccup* didn’t even k-know i could do that,” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back when eren started up a steady rhythm. your pussy felt so sensitive, yet each time he pulled out you wanted him back inside that instant. your legs felt like jello and you knew any moment they were bound to give up.

you took a shaky step towards your bed but eren just followed, his lips upturning into a smirk. now comes his favorite part.

“r-ren okay! okay i get ittt,” you sobbed out, gasping as your knees met the plushness of your carpet. eren remained inside you the entire time, wasting no time as he pushed your face into the carpet until your back with positioned into the perfect arch. as crazy as it sounded each slap of his balls against your clit felt like electricity shooting through your veins, causing nothing but moans and babbles to slip past your drooling lips.

“fuck m’gonna cum mama, get ready,” with four final thrusts eren emptied himself inside you, coating your walls in his sticky warmth. your body slumped more into the carpet, your eyes fluttering shut. eren pulled out slowly, laughing when your lower half fell with a dull thud.

“i *sniffle* see your point,” you whimpered, your back arching when your clit rubbed against the carpet. eren grinned, sitting back on his knees before gently turning your body over. he tapped your thigh softly, “push it out . . . please.”

you rolled your eyes, not looking forward the even bigger mess it would make, but you did as you were told. eren let out a long breath through his nose as he watch he cum drip out of you in thick globs. he peered at you through his lashes—

“we should, um, do this again sometime.”

[millyphobic]

˙ . ꒷ 🫀 . 𖦹˙— HEART 2 HEART

✮ soft cuddles & kisses with sevika while on your period ✮

fem!reader x girlfriend!sevika ‪‪❤︎‬ nothing but pure fluff, poorly proofread bcs im lazy (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

“Vika, I’m going to be honest. I think I’m going to die.” You groan and bury yourself deeper into Sevika’s side, one leg over her waist and your face squished against her chest. A sock-full of raw heated rice was held to your stomach as a makeshift heating pad, but it just wasn’t enough. 

Periods. Horrible things. As if you needed the monthly reminder that you weren’t pregnant. You were with a woman; periods were just useless and all the more annoying to you. The stupid bullshit heating pad gets pulled out from under your shirt and tossed onto the floor, earning a laugh from Sevika.

“You say this every month, silly girl. You’re fine.” 

“Okay, rude. Hold me tighter.”

Despite Sevika’s scoffs and eyerolls, you're happily smothered when she rolls on top of you. You asked to be held tighter, but this was just as nice, if not better. 

Feeling her lips brush against your cheek. Tossing your legs around her waist. Yeah, this is real good. You’re wrapping yourself around her frame like a cat as your arms find home at her neck. The scent of tobacco with citrusy shampoo wafting into your nose as you get a face full of her hair. It makes you laugh; anything Sevika does makes you giggle like an idiot, but that’s because she’s Sevika, and she’s perfect to you. “Mhm, this is what I needed,” you purred, returning her affection with a quick kiss to the top of her head. 

You swear you can hear the word spoiled leave her lips, but you let it slide, melting under her weight as she starts to smother you with attention. Firm pecks are pressed on every inch of exposed skin, from your forehead to your cheeks to your nose and even your eyelids. It makes you forget the dull ache in your lower abdomen, and okay, maybe your periods weren’t all that bad. At least you got to be smothered like this. 

“Oh, Vika…” you breathed, easing up even more into the mattress as her tongue laves at the skin of your neck. Short and quick, as if to tickle you, only for her to nip at where your pulse thrums under your skin. “Hey!” Alright, that didn’t hurt one bit, but it was funny to act dramatic.

And clearly she thought the same as she snickered at your faux complaint, nuzzling her nose against the area where she nipped you. And of course, the tip of her nose is cold because that woman always runs cold.

Which is why she absolutely could NEVER leave you because who would keep her warm? Exactly, she basically needs you. A woman like her needs a girl like yourself to occupy her lap and chatter her ears off and kiss her all over. Just as she does the same for you. 

Even now you feel her lips brush against the shell of your ear and squirm from the way her hot breath tickles you. More soft kisses are laid to the side of your head, and more giggles fill the room. “My silly, silly girl,” she muses, nudging her nose against yours. Breaths mingling and hearts beating in tandem; can you love a person any more than this? Those darling puppy eyes of hers and those scarred lips pulled in a little smirk. It’s like she’s trying to give you a heart attack. 

“Prettiest princess I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And that’s a fact.”

Oh my god. I’m so in love. 

There’s no shame in you when you squeal as Sevika captures your lips in a kiss, fingers digging more into her hair. It’s that type of kiss where you can’t stop smiling and laughing, and it’s more chaste than anything else. But it’s over quick, too quick. You don’t let her pull her away too far before you’re tugging her head down back to your mouth, reveling in the way her breath hitches in surprise. 

Now this is a proper kiss: slow and passionate but gentle. There’s desire, but it’s faint and lazy, something that’s for later in the night. And when you pull away for the second time, you’re smiling like a fool in love. Because you are. 

“You look like a puppy, girly.”

“Vika, you look like a puppy. A really cute one too.”

“Shush!” You’re promptly shut up when she butts her nose against your cheek, and you let her words slide, taking it as her bizarre sense of humor. Between her dad jokes and this, she would make quite the comedian. “But you forgot all about your period too, huh?”

Damn, she got me. I really did forget. 

[hurtspideyparker]

Part 3 of if Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together

Part 1 Part 2

-

Mission debrief:

Thor: Don't feel bad Banner, I mean is there anyone at this table who hasn't killed somebody?

Peter: *slowly raises hand*

Natasha: Don't worry you're still young

Peter: 😟

-

Steve: Has anyone seen my shield?

Clint: *points outside*

*Peter, Thor, and Bucky playing frisbee with it*

Steve: I guess I'm not saving those orphans today :/

-

Clint: Tony I said seedless watermelon, are you trying to kill me?

Tony: You're a big boy, you aren't gonna choke

Clint: No but it might... grow

Tony: Oh please don't tell me you still think watermelon seeds grow inside your stomach if you swallow them

Clint:

Pietro: Bro got a licence to kill but still has a Jack and the Beanstock level of education

-

2:34 am

Tony: *leaving Steve's bedroom*

Sam: *leaving Bucky's bedroom*

Tony:

Sam:

Tony: Let's never speak of this?

Sam: Yep.

-

Steve: Tony, you're the smartest person I know. You understand anything you set out to study, your passion is remarkable, innovation beyond anyone on the planet, and an incredible memory

Tony: Thank you thank you

Steve: So why do you STILL NOT CLOSE THE KITCHEN CABINETS

Tony: Uh

Steve: SOME OF US ARE TALL TONY. SOME OF US HAVE BRUISES ON THEIR FOREHEADS BECAUSE OF THIS NEGLIGENCE

-

Tony: Goodnight kid *tucks Peter into bed and kisses his forehead*

*Clint, Vision, Thor, and Dum-E waiting outside the room*

Tony: Oh come on. All of you?

*nodding*

Tony: Vision you don't even sleep. Dum-E I am not kissing you again you gave me chemical burns last time

Dum-E: *lowers head and whirs sadly*

-

Bucky: Don't sit so close to me

Sam: Why, cause I'm black 🤨

Bucky: No because you smell like ass sweat

Sam:

Sam: Why, cause I'm bl-

-

During training:

Natasha: *flips Steve and slams him onto his back*

Peter: Woah! I wanna know how to do that

Natasha: *flips Peter and slams him onto his back*

Natasha: Seems like you already know how

-

Tony: Okay Merida, you and me, darts for a hundred bucks. My suit vs. your freak self

Clint: I'll take that bet

*7 minutes later*

Tony: I have advanced AI targetting technology. SUPER. SUIT. How did I lose?!

Clint: It can do a lot of things Tony but at the end of the day it can't super suck this di-

-

Bucky: Sam's in medical so I'll do the mission debrief with you

Natasha: That was fast, I thought you'd still be coddling your boyfriend the rest of the day

Bucky: What. How do you know about us.

Natasha: I don't, it was a joke...

Bucky:

Natasha:

Bucky: Damn you really are good at interrogation

-

Bruce: I've taken up puzzles as a hobby. It's actually really relaxing

*Box is missing the last piece*

Bruce: *sighs, erases the 61 under the 'Days Without Hulk Incident' sign*

-

Natasha: Kings

Bucky: Go fish. Sevens?

Natasha: Nada. Fives?

Bucky: Shit. Here

Sam: I thought y'all were playing poker, are you for real playing Go Fish?

Natasha: Our pockets got cleaned out so we quit. The poker game is over by Steve

Peter: HAHA SUCK IT OLD MAN, AMERICA JUST WENT BANKRUPT *pulls giant pile of animal crackers to himself*

-

Steve: Do you want to play catch?

Wanda: What?

Steve: Um. Do you want to watch Hannah Montana?

Wanda: I don't even know what you're talking about

Steve: Maybe I could show you how to brush your teeth?

Wanda: Steve you're really scaring me

Steve: The article said to do it together! *shows phone*

Wanda: Are you getting parenting advice from wikihow? Did you even read it or were you just skimming the pictures

Steve: ...Well why'd they put toothbrushing in the photo if it wasn't a good bonding activity?

-

Sam: Why are your titties so bouncy man. Is it to deflect bullets?

Steve: What did you just say about my chest...

Sam: Hey I call em as I see em, and they're staring right at me.

-

Peter: Yo Mr. Stark wanna see a backflip?

Peter: Oh Cap come see my front handsprings

Peter: Natasha watch this aerial cartwheel!

Tony: Why did you tell him you were in the circus. Now that the idea's in his head all he does is jump around and cause noise complaints from downstairs

Clint: C'mon it's cute! He's talented

Bucky: I'm gonna tell him it doesn't count because he has superpowers and that he's a cheat

Tony: But that'll ruin his confidence

Bucky: God I hope so

[yougavememyopia]

Kidnapper! Yandere (2)

Tags: PT 1. 18+, desperate sub, angst ig, finger sucking, spit (a bit), choking, handjob

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"Are you not gonna talk to me?" Your kidnapper pouted, tilting his head innocently. He was good at pretending like the situation you were in was normal. "Come on, I thought you enjoyed last night..."

The events replayed in your head. You felt a rush of heat as you recalled the events. Your body was sore. Very, very sore.

"I'll wait as long as it takes, y'know. Just gonna sit here, and cuddle with you until you speak. Or you could talk to me now... Please?"

His side hug got tighter as silence grew. He whined loudly, burying his face in your marked neck. Your arms rested on your lap. You were not tied anymore. Free to do as you please. Not like you could walk though.

He had you dressed in clothes he stole from you before. They smelled like him. His embrace was warm, comfortable. Was it wrong to hug him back? You hadn't spoken since breakfast, trying to sort your feelings while he rested his head on your chest.

"Am I really that unlovable?" He whispered, but you heard him. You heard the pain in his voice, the shaky breath that escaped him. He was going to cry. Last time, it was out of pleasure when he was buried deep inside you, confessing his love over and over again.

He stopped hugging you, sitting up right. You shifted your position and looked at him. Those tears made you feel different. A bad twist in your stomach. Your hands gripped the fabric of your pants tighter, unsure of what to do.

"I thought I was doing something right. I was so convinced that after last night, things would be different. I thought everything would be different. I love you! I showed you how much love I can give you. In every way possible. I'd do anything for you. Isn't that enough?"

You held in your sigh. Poor, delusional boy. Mistaking true love for an obsession. Kidnapping, forcing, manipulating, all in the name of love. You shouldn't blame him. Apperently, no one taught him how to behave normally.

"W-why are you looking at me like that? Please don't look at me like that! I can't have you hate me. Please don't hate me. Please. Please. Please."

He was sobbing loudly. He was always very loud. Very emotional. Very weak. He was shaking. Snot running down his nose and he quickly wiped them with his sleeve.

"I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone. I need you. I need you. I can't live without you. I can't breathe without you. I'll die without you!"

He grabbed the hand you reached out to him. Holding it with his unusually cold hands. His whole body was shaking, his other hand wrapped around his mouth to silence himself, his fat tears still streaming down his face. He seemed out of it, staring at the floor with wide eyes while you stared at him profile. Then he fell down to the floor. Right in front of the couch, on his knees, looking up at you. His hands clasped around yours as he started pleading with you.

"You're angry, right? That's all, you're just angry! That's okay. You can take it all out on me. I don't mind it. At all. My body is for your use. I'm yours. I'm all yours. So go on. Hit me. Slap me. Punch me. Spit on me. Step on me. Choke me. Abuse me. What will make you satisfied? Please, tell me..."

He looked up at you with glassy eyes. His tears finally stopped. He loosened his grip on your hand, and you quickly cupped his face. He sighed in relief, nuzzling into your palm. He was waiting. Waiting for your answer, your approval, any scrap of love that you'll give to him. He needed it so badly that he was willing to do anything.

"Use me. Degrade me. Control me. Just talk to me. Pay attention to me. Love me! Please! I'm yours. I'm all yours to use."

You grazed his bottom lip, his lips immediately parted. You mumbled to him to lick your fingers. Your index and middle rubbing against his tongue. He moaned, immediately lapping your skin. His mouth closed around them, and he sucked while keeping eye contact. His lewd look was enough to send a rush between your legs.

"Aah~" He kept making sounds as he licked between your fingers. His face twisted in pleasure. Laying his head on the soft plush of your thigh. He pulled away, and you allowed him to talk. "Punish me. Please punish me. I've been a bad boy, right? You can't just let me get away with it. You need to teach me a lesson-!"

He groaned out the last word as your leg pressed against the hardness of his pants. You sighed, feeling him go stiff. "Sure, I'll teach you a lesson."

"Mmh, ah.. thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't say it enough. Now please, please, use me. Use me. I'm yours. I'm yours. Yoursyoursyoursyours!"

You stopped moving your leg against his crotch, and he stopped humping it. Each movement was making him more excited, but he didn't protest when you stopped. You patted the spot next to you, and he obediently came back to sit on the couch.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen." You face him, holding his hands in yours. He squeezed them, and you assumed that was his way of ignoring the tent in his pants. "Things are going to be different. You're not gonna hold me hostage. I'm allowed to leave. But I'll live with you. And we could be like spouses or whatever you said last night."

His face went through several emotions. From excited, to confused, to scared, and back to happy. He opened his mouth, but you immediately shushed him. You covered his mouth, glaring at him. "You're not allowed to talk until after I'm done helping you with your problem."

He nodded. You felt him gulp as you stared at the bulge in front of his pants. Your own core throbbed. The thought of seeing him make those noises and look at you with that lovesick look on his face had you clenching your thighs together. Last night was all about making you come, so you never actually got to see him. You felt excited. "Let me see you. Go on."

He immediately pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing out. Precum was rolling down the tip, his legs spread wider, and his hands grabbed the sides of the couch. He whimpered as you stared at him for a bit. You started by spitting down on him, grazing his tip with your thumb before stroking his length. There was no need for it, but you just wanted to test out all the things he said before. He reacted by pushing his hips up. His thighs were shaking. His head fell back, and his back arched.

"Nngh! Fuck.. Aah, that feels so good. Thank.. you-!" The look he gave you was filled with absolute love. His words all mumbled up. "B-but why aren't you punishing me? I thought-"

You cut him off by speeding up. He whined loudly, hips thrusting up to meet with your strokes. "Let's take it easy right now, okay? Plus, we have plenty of time for all that."

"But you should punish me 'cause I'm about to come. Ah! Sorry! Sorry.. can't take much more. It feels so good! Ah, fuck."

You chuckled. "Come on then. Come for me." Your other grabbed his throat and squeezed it. His hips thrusted up immediately. He made a loud pleasured noise, his teary eyes fluttering shut as he finished. His stomach got all messy, as did your hand. You helped him calm down through his high, giving a few gentle strokes. "There you go. Good boy. Such a good boy..."

Your clean hand met up to stroke his hair while he cried happily. Whispering thank you's, and opening his mouth to clean your fingers from his release. Smiling happily at you as you messaged his scalp. His hair was so soft. You gripped his chin, leaning in to kiss his lips.

"You know if you do that, I'll get excited again.. And then you'll have to punish me for real."

You softly laughed, deciding to kiss him anyway. He responded by pressing his lips happily against yours. His mouth opened to allow your tongue in. Soft sounds escaping botn of you. Last night was repeating itself. This time, it'll be all about him.